Daughter's Devotion
by TheWritingGup
Summary: -Possible Hiatus- Heathor never wanted to be involved, not really. The words didn't make sense. But, she had asked if it would make her mother happy, and she had gotten a yes. So of course she complied, if only to make her happy. But it doesn't mean that she agrees, even more so the older she gets. (Starts about 17 years following The Serphant's Shadow. OC centric. Added Char.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: **Heathor never wanted to be involved. No, she just wanted to make her mother happy. So of course she said yes, because it made her mother happy. She didn't understand what she meant, what the words meant. She was young, how could she? (OC centric, written in Advisory. This story starts about seventeen years after the Battle of Apophis, estimated to end about maybe 50 years after.)

**AN: In study hall, we play penny ball and red solo cup football. Quite inspirational, but I don't really do sports, I write. This might continue, I don't know particularly, also, I tried to use words found in Heathor's age bracket. **

**I might set up the OC profiles I have completed either on my profile, this story, or possibly another website.**

**Cannon Characters: Carter Kane, Zia Rashid, Sadie Kane-Stone, mentions Amos Kane, Walt Stone, mentions Ruby Fausts-Kane and Julius Kane, Anubis, Horus, Sobek, Isis, Osiris, Set, Nephthys, Hathor (she has a Kane Chronicles appearance in the first book, but she isn't really given a set personality, so she could be seen as an OC). This list will possibly expand.**

**Couples: OC/OC, Carter Kane/Zia Rashid, Sadie Kane/Anubis-Walt Stone/, Isis/Osiris, Set/Nephthys, Horus/Hathor (could consider her an OC I guess, due to no cannon introduction, but she is a real goddess), Anubis/Anput, (platonic) Heathor/Horus **

Heathor had never seen her mother smile. Or be reasonably happy. She didn't understand why, no matter what they told her. In her small brain, all she knew was one thing: She didn't have a Papa. She had _had _a Papa, but as her aunt explained, he had moved on. When she had asked what that meant, her mama had cried.

She never asked again.

Despite the fact that Papa was a topic not allowed, she had gotten quite the surprise one night.

The five year old poked and prodded at the macaroni and cheese. It seemed off, it was too chunky. Her mother scrubbed furiously at the pot. She looked to her mother, to her dinner, and back to her mother. She seemed sadder than usual, as if she knew of her mac&cheese mistake.

She took a slow bite, and it was a chunky bite. It didn't taste like cheese, no, it tasted like power. She swallowed hardly, and her body didn't appear to appreciate it. Her body shook and she coughed again and again.

"Mama, the dinner is good," she said, lying.

"Huh? What did you say darling?" Her mother seemed to be lost. Her gaze was directed towards her, but she didn't seem to be looking at her. Her normally perfect ponytail was messed up.

"The dinner's good Mama." To prove her nonexistent point, she took another bite.

"Oh. Yeah."

Her mother sat down across from her. She had always seemed big to Heathor, but now she appeared very small, but much older than she usually looked. Her face seemed more worn in. Her mother never appeared this old, not once.

She didn't voice this though. She stomached through the mac&cheese. Sitting there in the silence was horrible; her young curiosity couldn't take this. "Mama, you okay?" she asked quietly.

The older woman shook her head. "I'm just thinking baby."

She shifted. She was rarely called 'baby' by her. "About what?"

Her mother sighed. "Persistent child."

"What does _per-sis-tent_ mean?"

"You don't give up."

"Oh." She pushed her plate in front of her. "Thinking about what?" she asked again.

"Stuff baby."

"What stuff?"

She leaned back and closed her eyes. "Something your papa said," she answered.

_Oh. _She crawled up on the table towards her mother. Her legs dangled over the edge.

It was even sadder when she thought about Papa. She was distant and didn't listen very well. She didn't even scold her for sitting on the table, which was rare. Heathor kicked her feet out in front of her.

With a small voice, she asked yet again. "Whadda Papa say?"

Her feet where caught. She was lifted off the table and set on the floor. "Let mama think in private, I've got important things to think about. The mail is very persistent with requests." She patted her head. "Go play baby."

She frowned. Heathor ran off, sliding across the hardwood floors. To the front hall she ran, slipping into the wall. She shook her dizziness off, climbing onto the small. She dug in the basket of old mail, picking at old envelopes. Stuff she didn't understand or old junk.

The young girl took out a small envelope with her last name printed on it. It was opened, the top fold ripped.

She slipped out the folded up paper. None of the words seemed to make sense; she was still learning how to read. A few of the words vaguely seemed to make sense.

The words 'child' and 'yes' seemed to occur many times on the yellow paper.

She folded it up even more, dropping it into her small pocket, leaving the envelope in the bowl.

The young girl jumped down, landing with a soft thud. She would show her aunt or someone later. She went to the shoe closest, slipping out the insoles of her running shoes and putting the paper in. Her mother would never look there.

Once more she scampered off, running back to the kitchen. Using the chair again, she climbed on the table in front of her mother. "Mama, I played," she said.

She _tsked_, patting her knee. "It's '_I'm done playing' _baby," her mother corrected. She sighed once more as she crawled on her lap. "Baby, what are you doing?"

"Sitting on your lap."

"Why?"

"Because Mama's sad." She grabbed her hand, holding her hand against hers. "Even sadder than usual. Which is weird, because I don't think you could get sadder."

Her mother frowned at her daughter's grammar, which never seemed to improve, but she was still young. "You're quite insightful Heathor," she remarked.

She cocked her head to one side. "Whadda that mean?" the younger girl asked.

"Nothing baby." She held her hand. "What makes you think Mama is sad?"

"Oh." She looked down, playing her hair. She braided the side of her hair. "Reasons Mama." She paused, unbraiding her hair. "Do you have questions for me?"

"Of course baby," she said, giving her a faint smile. Her daughter brightened considerably, since her smiling was rare. "Would you do anything for your mama to be happy?" she asked.

Her mother didn't want to ask it. It wasn't a question she thought she could ask. How does one ask her child to host an Egyptian god? You don't, she realized, ask that. She couldn't do it like _her _mother had. She had to do it soon though; her family was making her ask the question.

"Of course Mama. I'd do anything to make you happy," she said, giving her own smile.

That was what she had expected. Her child, her oh so innocent child, was a fool unfortunately, so willing, despite the problems that could bring.

"Anything baby?" she asked again. She could only hope she would. Her husband had to leave in a sense, to never meet his child, just to comply with her family's plan. She hated it, and could feel the anger from the spirit inside of her hating it as well. "Includes listening," she warned.

Heathor leaned on her mother's chest. Her bedtime was fast approaching and she was getting tired. She rubbed at her eyes and yawned. "Listen, okay."

Her mother frowned once more. The spirit inside her spoke up._ This will destroy her Carol, the girl can't handle it._

_She might, you never know._

"I promise," she said again.

Carol held her close. "Your papa," she started, "was a great man. He would do anything to make me happy, in fact, just being near him in general made he happy. Sort of like you." She took a deep breath. "You look like him a lot in fact."

She cocked her head again, pulling away. "Do I?" She had never seen pictures of her papa and had no idea what he looked like.

Her mother took her hair between her fingers. Her soft fine hair was something to die for. "Of course baby, I would never tell a dishonest truth." Before she could even ask, "A lie, honey," she told her. She nodded, putting her head back down.

"Anyway baby," she said, "your papa knew my family was bit odd. Very odd religious practices." She patted her back. "What do you know of Egypt?"

"What's Eg-wupt?"

She sighed. She shouldn't have asked; her daughter was only in kindergarten. "It's a country in Africa," she explained. "The Egyptians have many gods and goddesses…"

Heathor had mainly zoned out. It was late to her at least, and the heath coming off of her body was lulling her to sleep. She would nod occasionally in her mother's talking.

She told her mother she would listen and she would. She just wouldn't listen to her tonight.

She briefly heard her mother ask a question to which she responded "Would it make Mama happy?"

It wouldn't of course, but it was alright to lie to her. "Very much baby," she said, trying to not show her emotions in the word.

In her daze, she responded with "Okay Mama." Her hair was being ruffled, auburn streaks falling over her face. She heard "That's my girl" repeatedly. She could hear another voice briefly for a minute. Her mother had said something about that, but her attention was limited.

Her head went back onto her chest as Carol rambled. She patted her lap repeatedly. Her eyes started to drop shut. Heathor tugged on her mother's shirt and she stopped talking. "Mama, I'm tired," she said. "Bedtime."

"You have to a shower baby."

She groaned, "Just this one time."

Carol shook her head, "No."

"Please."

"_**No.**_**"**

"Fine," she said, "but you've got help me."

"Got to." Carol fixed her hair. "Okay honey."

Her child climbed off her lap onto the table. She stood up and pushed her chair in. Her child had her arms outstretched in the air, the similar motion she always preformed. She picked her up, carrying her down the hallway. Her daughter held on tightly. She had a fear of being dropped.

She clung on so tightly her shirt started to choke her. Her grip would never loosen; only get tighter no matter what she told. She had never dropped her, but she still thought she would. That wouldn't stop her from being carried though.

Her feet touched the cold floor as she was put down. She climbed onto the counter as her mother drew the bath water. She idly kicked her legs back and forth.

"Baby, get off the counter. You're not allowed to do that," she scolded.

She pouted, pulling her socks off. "But I'm getting undressed." To prove her point, she pulled her shirt off, dropping it on the floor.

Sometimes her daughter's forwardness shocked her. "Got to stop that," she said.

She frowned, not liking the feeling that her mother was displeased with her. She swore she heard another voice as she thought this. It wasn't her mother, she realized, because she had a much higher voice than the one she had heard. She muttered quickly, something, anything really.

Her mother turned, looking at her through brown bangs. "Did you say something honey?" she asked.

And for the second time that night, she lied to her mother. "No Mama."

"Stay here hun," she said, patting her head. "Mama's going to get you new clothes, alright?" And so she left her child in the bathroom for a moment.

She tugged the rest of her clothes off, slipping into the bathwater, dunking her head to get her hair wet. Her hair floated around her. She came up after a minute when the need for oxygen became too great.

She ran her thin fingers through her hair, straightening it out. She had learned that her hair knotted very easily. Her hair reached her shoulders, the fine and fairly coloured hair being inherited from her father's side of the family.

Carol reentered, setting her daughter's clothes on the counter. The young girl looked at them and frowned. "Those aren't PJs. They look like going-out clothes."

Her mother kneeled beside the bathtub, grabbing the wash rag. She squeezed some soap onto it. "You have to spend some time at your aunt's, okay?"

Heathor wasn't shocked. She was use going to her aunt's and uncle's. It was a common occurrence, seeing as how her mother worked odd shifts. She was there so often that some her clothes had adopted their own drawers, packed tightly with clothes left in her aunt's washer.

She scrubbed her arms gently, the fruity scent in the air. She rubbed her shoulders. The soap foamed as she washed the girl.

She dunked herself when she was finished. The foamy substance washed off, diluting in the lukewarm water. When her mother reached for the shampoo, she shook her head. Carol ceased her motion, eyeing her daughter. "It'll ruin it."

She pulled back, frowning. Her daughter seemed uncomfortable when she saw this, quickly apologizing. "Sorry Mama."

Carol patted her head. She unplugged the drain, water escaping through the drain. She wrapped her now-standing daughter in the towel. The girl giggled and she couldn't help but smile. "Come on hun."

**-[-]-[-]-[-]-**

Heathor sat in the rumbling car. A flashlight dangled in her small teeth. She attempted to read the paper, but the car's motion wasn't helping. She had enough problems reading when she wasn't moving. Now, it was near impossible.

She tried everything, her lap, the back of her mother's seat.

Nothing.

The auburn haired girl thought to ask her mother but didn't, not knowing how she would react.

She deciphered that the 'child' was most likely her, while the 'yes' to whatever question her mother had asked her. Nothing more though.

She curled up in her booster seat, turning the light off. She shoved the paper in her pocket. The rocking motion of the car wasn't helping her desire to sleep.

**-[-]-[-]-[-]-[-]-[-]-**

When she felt a hand on her shoulder, she turned further into the seat. Until she realized that it was too warm to be her booster seat.

She rubbed at her eyes, yawning.

Heathor heard her aunt talking in hushed tones, patting her shoulders. She seemed to be talking to her mother about something she didn't get at first, but then caught on.

"You really got her to say yes? No faults? Just like that?" her aunt asked.

"Of course I did. She's very compliant. See for yourself," Carol answered.

Ah, so it was the question from earlier and the importance of a 'yes' response.

She felt a hand on her forehead and the girl giggled lightly, looking at her aunt. She had an odd expression on her seemingly young face. She didn't realize it until her aunt opened her eyes, but they had been closed.

Her aunt looked away as she noticed, a smile on her face. "You did! Think they'll back off?"

"I don't know Naomi. They might, but other might show their faces, check on the children's progress and all."

She saw Naomi dropped her smile at the last part, before her view changed. She touched the floor, Carol kneeling in front of her, fixing her jacket.

"Mama will be back by tomorrow, right?"

She nodded, giving her a tight hug. "Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow."

(TheWritingGup declares this chapter as finished!)

Final Word Count: 2,585


	2. Chapter 2

**EDIT: I found more pages of this in another notebook, and added the extra stuff. Sorry.**

**Summary**: Heathor never wanted to be involved. No, she just wanted to make her mother happy. So of course she said yes, because it made her mother happy. She didn't understand what she meant, what the words meant. She was young, how could she? (This OC centric, written in Advisory. This story starts about seventeen years after the Battle of Apophis, estimated to end about maybe 50 years after.)

**AN: One, I added a short biography and story listing (I guess you call it that) on my profile. I also did some math (shockingly) and if I followed my original plan for the chapters, I would have a ton of chapters. The old plan was 3-5 chapters for each age, by time Heathor's 17, that's 51-85 chapters, if my math is right. So, it might be a bit wonky now. Also, this was well received with my friends, so, hey, I'm attempting. Thanks to bandcrazy01 (3 your stories bro), KaneChronicles12, and Sanubis Lover (who reviewed this one on a different story so) for reviewing and making me add those to screen names to Microsoft's Dictionary. Also, sorry for butchering those last few paragraphs. Just completely screwed it up.**

**Cannon Characters: Carter Kane, Zia Rashid, Sadie Kane-Stone, mentions Amos Kane, Walt Stone, mentions Ruby Fausts-Kane and Julius Kane, Anubis, Horus, Sobek, Isis, Osiris, Set, Nephthys, Hathor (she has a Kane Chronicles appearance in the first book, but she isn't really given a set personality, so she could be seen as an OC). This list will possibly expand.**

**Couples: OC/OC, Carter Kane/Zia Rashid, Sadie Kane/Anubis-Walt Stone/, Isis/Osiris, Set/Nephthys, Horus/Hathor (could consider her an OC I guess, due to no cannon introduction, but she is a real goddess), Anubis/Anput, (platonic) Heathor/Horus **

Dangling her legs from the counter, she watched as Naomi tended to her young cousin.

The boy was still practically a babe, three years her junior. It amused her lightly, seeing as how he _was _Junior, Sam Junior anyway.

That and she were allowed to sit on tabletops and such with her aunt around.

Naomi was helping the young boy eat his toddler-modified meal, assisting him with holding his plastic fork.

Heathor wasn't helpful in this situation, but that was common, her ignorance often interfering in her life. So while her cousin was being tended to, she let her mind wonder to last night and on ward.

Her family was treating her differently, no doubt about it. Before her uncle had left for work, he had regarded her weirdly. Had she gotten sick? But she had seen her aunt pull him aside, probably telling him about her question response. That didn't set into why he would suddenly start seeing her differently, could it?

Even Naomi would glance at her with a pitiful look. What was the meaning of the question? Was it so bad that her relatives start to dislike her?

The idea hurt her and she recoiled back, feet on the counter and knees pressed into her chest. She hadn't done anything wrong, unless wanting her mother's happiness was suddenly wrong.

Her teachers had always gone on about it was okay to like good things. So it she had done a good thing, why was everyone disliking it?

She sighed lightly. Maybe she should had listened, or asked what the question was.

Being pulled from her thoughts, she was focused on Naomi. "Get enough to eat?"

She nodded, "Yeah, Na." She could still taste remnants of the grilled cheese lodged in her teeth. She would have to take care of that when she got home.

Hopping of the counter, stumbling a bit, she slid back into her chair. She drank her fruity beverage. "Na, what was the question about?"

Naomi fumbled with the dishes. "What does _that _mean?"

She set her cup down, turning in her chair. "The question that Mama asked. Do you know what it is? Or means?"

Once more, that voice rang out from last night. _You should learn how to focus, really._

She jumped from it, startling herself. It didn't sound like anyone she knew, too old, too deep. And why was it coming from her head? She didn't have another person living in her head; it was only _her_.

She shook her head, brushing it off. She listened to the other woman, her frantic words reaching her. "Are you telling me you _consented _to something you didn't understand? Did Carol tell you _anything?_"

"Mama did, but…" she trailed off. She didn't feel like admitting that she had lied. Even small lies that she didn't mean where long talks about how it 'Isn't very polite'. She preferred to not think about _intentional _lies. Clearing the lump in her throat, she spoke quietly. "I didn't listen."

Naomi sighed deeply, turning to face her young niece. "Oh Heathor. That wasn't a bright idea." She paused, hand in hair. "What do you know hun?"

In honest, she had only heard about Egypt and an extensive religion before she had slipped off. "Tiny thing about a place named Eg-wupt."

Naomi smiled, turning back to the dishes. "At least you know a small bit." Her shoulders tensed, humming a small bit. For a few moments, the only sound was her humming and Sam speaking in Toddler Talk. "I'll tell Carol about this, alright? You can't go blindly into this blindly Heathor. Very idiotic, very stupid."

**-[-]-[-]-[-]-**

Taking her hands down, she stopped her game of patty cake with Sam. Naomi had reentered the living room, having left to do something she wasn't aware of. Perhaps it was to grab something, but her hands where empty.

She had convinced her to explain what she hadn't listened to, and she had reluctantly agreed. It seemed to make her aunt uncomfortable, to tell something that had to supposedly be done by her mother. _Na and Mama are close enough, _she thought. _Na counts._

Hearing her aunt clear her throat, she looked up at her. She had taken Sam in her lap, hushing his young sounds. He leaned against her chest, looking at his cousin. "Cuppie," he said, motioning towards her.

She cocked her to the side. She didn't have his cup. He pointed again to her side, and she followed the direction of his finger. He had been pointing at the table, and she figured that he asked her since he couldn't reach. Trying to be a good cousin, she grabbed the lidded bottle, giving it to the out stretched hands. He giggled, taking a drink.

"Heathor, what I tell you isn't what _I_ think," she stressed, "it's what our _family_ thinks. Very important to understand, so don't be offended." She paused, looking at her. There was a dull look on her face as she did so. "Our family has been doing this for numerous years. I guess you could say it's in our blood. Our family does _this_ as a test of sorts, running all sorts of variables."

Heathor frowned. Tests weren't something she excelled at. What would happen if she failed this test? Perhaps another yellow card or no TV time if she did failed.

"We're testing how things would be if things turned out… _differently_ for certain people. The previous tests haven't been very successful though, and we were considering stopping. Numerous complications had come along, making it hard to continue. There's no point in running inconclusive tests.

"Ultimately, a few years back, we had to stop for other reasons. Me and Carol were still young then, and only got this stuff when they felt like it." She paused, hugging Samuel to her chest, tucking his head in beneath her chin. He squirmed, and she quieted him. Her voice was softer this time, and Heathor had to strain to hear her.

"And then Carol met Peter, and I met your Uncle Sam. The family suddenly got a large interest in trying again. Apparently there was a higher chance this time around, something about the test would run better with the chemistry that we had.

"Then you were born, and things got complicated. You being born could have been seen as a good or bad thing."

Heathor pulled her knees up to her chest, putting her head on her knees. Her face felt warm, and as if her stomach was doing back flips. Those words didn't settle well in her mind. "Bit mean," she muttered.

Naomi raised a brow. "I told you it wasn't what _I _thought. Besides, I said good _or_ bad." She looked her niece over for a couple seconds, before starting up again. "The fact that you were born in December was a good fact for the people we're testing. You could even say we got lucky.

"The bad fact about your birth was, well, you're a girl. The role you are meant to play is for a boy. They figured that they could still test it, that having you host a man isn't an issue." She smiled, patting Samuel's head. "Then Sam was born, and the pieces fell into place."

Heathor tilted her head to one side. That made some sense _and_ could explain the voice in her head. It didn't explain why they performed this test, but her family had to have good reasons for doing so. Or why she had to have another voice in her head. Maybe it had been her imagination, seeing as how her aunt hadn't mentioned that in her explanation.

She bit her lower lip. Was there not meant to be a voice? Was that why her uncle had regarded her oddly? Perhaps she already _did _fail with that alone fact. Then again, she had seen her aunt humming to herself, as if having a silent conversation. That reassured her if, only for a small moment.

"But why? Can't the people work it out by doing it? " she asked.

Naomi chuckled, muttering something. She spoke up louder. "The _people_ just can't Heathor. Very stubborn in the way they act. They themselves won't change their acts, so our family is trying to see how they could be. Of course, there are some errors, with people affecting the outcome." She looked around, hands clasping over Samuel's ears, which he didn't enjoy very much. "Between us, I think this test will turn out pretty successful. It's all set up the way they want it to be. So just play your part and _behave_."

The last few words didn't seem to be directed at her, nor did it sound like her aunt. It was her voice yes, but it was older, just like her mother had seemed last night.

She stretched her legs out, resisting the urge to bounce in her seat. Even with those previous thoughts, she still wanted to run around. Not only was she going to help her mother, she was going to possibly pass some sort of test. It would be a win-win situation, granted she _behaved_.

_I can behaved for Mama's sake, _she thought to herself.

**-[-]-[-]-[-]-**

Carol had hidden her math book and she didn't appreciate it. She had to attend school tomorrow, and not having one of her books would qualify as a 'yellow card.' Even when she asked for it back in her sweetest voice, it still wasn't returned.

Then the weird words had begun, her mother insisting that she put it in a 'Duat', whatever that was.

Heathor listened to her this time, not slipping off like previous moments.

"Just imagine reaching for the book," she coached, sitting across from her.

And she did, momentarily feeling the waxy pages. She curled her fingers around on the side, before losing her focus. The book appeared to slip away.

She fell further in the seat, suddenly feeling overwhelmingly tired. She thought it odd; before her book retrieval she had plenty of energy.

Opening her eyes, she stared up at the ceiling. Hearing a sigh, she looked over. Carol was biting her lower lip, wearing a look she hadn't seen before. Shoulders slumped and downcast eyes, the occasional mutter, a few glances at her. Nothing good.

Was this from her inability to retrieve the book? Or was she still upset about her not listening the day before?

Whatever it was, she was determined to not let it last.

Focusing on the book and her mother's unhappiness, she felt a pressure building in her. An old pressure, almost a familiar one at that, that felt like it was reaching out and grabbing the book.

The next thing she was aware of was that she was sitting on Carol's lap, holding the book to her chest. "Did it Mama."

She looked her over before chuckling. "You did Heath, you did."

Final Word Count: 2128


	3. An Apology Note

**AN: /. In writing chapter three and planning out Carol's (Heathor's mother) character chart, I struck with a sudden realization: I have no plans to actually ever finish this. This happens quite often for me, as I have never finished story, excluding for school. Shame too. **

**I rarely continuously do things, with the exception of live, but hell, I'm not doing a great job with that. That's not for here though.**

**This actually saddens me for some reason. I can't really explain it. Probably because in my head, I had really high hopes for this fan fiction. I mean higher hopes in my writing than I ever thought I could have. **

"_**I'm afraid that sometimes you'll play lonely games too. Games you can't win 'cause you'll play against you." **_

― _**Dr. Seuss**_

**With that quote from Seuss, hopefully this will distract you from the rest of this note.**

**What I had originally planned for this story was to expel me to some sort of stardom. When this story was originally written out and planned, I was in a low. (Despite what my profile may tell you, I kind of **_**did**_** publish a ranting story.) People where coming and going, the ones that came took some of my most personal secrets. The ones that were going often left with hate, in my heart and theirs. (I also had shop and gym, two classes **_**fantastic**_** at making me hate myself). I am at a fault with some of these people, as are they. I am not playing the victim card.**

**With the transgression of people in my life, I needed to feel important. Like I could do something active besides being an outlet for people to cry on.**

**But then, all bad things ended as they do. In school, I was propelling to a sudden rank of popularity all because of older, more popular friends. I fundamentally am filling their role as they leave the building. I got out of shop and gym, started consumer education (I still hate myself in that class) and music. Oh, music. Where I am actively acknowledged by a fantastic teacher whom I've history with.**

**With an upside in my life, I don't need this story for popularity, thus, there is no reason to continue it.**

**That, and I **_**fucking**_** hate this story.**

**Unless I somehow received a second wind, this two chapter story will be marked as 'complete'. I was considering publishing chapter three before this unlovely note, but I don't have the heart (or soul) for it. **

**Sincerest apologizes and loving regards**

**-TheWritingGup (AKA Maddy)**


End file.
